


War and Peace

by Little_Red_Hot_Riding_Hood



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Team Fortress 2
Genre: And befoer anyone comments I know this might not be accurate I wasn't going for that, Based on the idea of Yondu as Russian Solider, Child Abandonment, Child Peter, Crimes & Criminals, Criminals turned soldiers, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hunting, I am going to destroy a few hearts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nazis, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Papa Yondu, Parent-Child Relationship, Tissue Warning, Tissues people believe me, Touch-Starved, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Red_Hot_Riding_Hood/pseuds/Little_Red_Hot_Riding_Hood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is hell. Yondu knows this and he's still leading his company. Despite being a group of criminals turns soilders to avoid jail. He can handle that. </p><p>But can he handle one small lost child?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Write_like_an_American](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_like_an_American/gifts), [ClassicalTorture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicalTorture/gifts).



> Based off this conversation between Write-Like-An-American and FandomWho

Hell would be nicer than this.

 

Anything had to be nicer than this.

 

Yondu cursed and took another swig of the swill that passed for a stiff drink. He tried to focus on anything but the bloody biting cold (around)  eating at him.

 

“Boss?” Kraglin, one of the older soldiers said approaching him. It had been days since they’d received any orders or news from command. The quiet was making them all anxious.

 

“Anything?” Yondu asked pulling his own jacket a bit tighter around himself.

 

“Nothing..still radio silence.”

 

Both men tensed.  The rest of the team froze too at the sound of a snapping twig.  They relaxed again as they heard nothing further.

 

“Just a rabbit, comrades.” Heavy, one of the  team said before he went back to checking on  their  guns again.

 

“I keep telling you something’s out there and it isn’t a rabbit.”  someone said. “We’ve been hearing something  for the last hour and I don’t fucking care how quiet it is, it can’t be a damn rabbit.”

 

“Will you shut up.” another voice  snapped .

 

“Fucking make me Kroatz.”

 

“Enough.” snapped Yondu.  He sighed and ran his hand over his craggy face.

 

Of all his fucking luck, he ended up in charge of a band of criminals.  This was what he got for fucking refusing to take the blame for someone else’s fuck up. However, the Ravagers still did what they needed to do and did it well despite their  diverse backgrounds. Though at this point, he knew, they were all nothing more than cannon fodder in the  eyes of the powers that be .

 

It went quiet again and Yondu silently cursed the  army for everything that was happening  to them .  The twig snapped louder this time and the entire team was on their feet in seconds. They swung their guns around, taking aim at whatever or whoever was approaching their small camp.  What did appear before them, was the last thing they were expecting. A small boy, six or seven years old moved from behind a tree. He was shivering from the cold and looked as if he hadn’t seen people in days.

 

“A kid?” one of them said. “Where the hell did he come from?”

 

Yondu  was curious himself . All the surrounding villages were  said to be evacuated. There shouldn’t  have been anyone but military  in the area. But it seemed  that this one boy had been left behind.

 

“Shit he’s hurt.” Kraglin said.  He was moving before Yondu could stop him and kneeled in front of the child.  The young boy began to shrink away slightly and curled in upon himself.

 

“Medic.” Yondu snapped.  He looked at the man sitting next to Heavy, polishing his glasses. He replaced them on his face and stood up, walking slowly and carefully towards their visitor.

 

“Well, what do we have here?” Medic asked softly.  He nearly stumbled in his quick retreat from the kick the boy sent his way. The young boy look scared and moved back towards the woods.

 

“You..you’re German!” The boy said.  He was clearly afraid and looked like he was ready to run. Yondu grabbed the boy by the back of his shirt lifting  him off of his feet.  He held the boy tightly.

 

“No! Let go! Let me go you Nazis!”  the boy screamed.

 

Yondu sighed .   The rest of the team snorted in their amusement at the boy’s ranting.

 

“Idiotic boy..look at the uniforms. Medic may be German but he’s no Nazi.” Yondu said with a snort. He walked back over to the fireplace and the few chairs they had managed to find,  the boy still firmly in his grasp . He dropped the boy down  onto a chair, so Medic could exam him. He  hadn’t taken two steps before the kid was latching tightly onto his coat  with two little fists . “Let go brat.”

 

“No.”  the young boy replied definitely.   Yondu tried to ignore the fear  running across the child’s face.  

 

(Somehow in the next ten minutes of the tug of war he tried to play with his coat and then the boy not wanting to sit still for medic the kid somehow ended up in Yondu’s lap while Medic doctored the boy’s bare feet and other wounds.)

 

Over the course of the next ten minutes, Yondu and the young visitor played tug of war. He wouldn’t let go of the commander, fear motivating him to keep a tight grip on the long coat. Medic tried in vain to examine the wounds, but he wouldn’t sit still enough. Finally, Yondu lifted the young boy off of the chair and deposited him in his lap. He held on tight while Medic finally was able to get a good look at him. He took his time, gently bandaging his bare feet and a few other wounds that littered his small frame.

 

“Where are your parents?” Yondu asked as Medic  worked.  One of the men dug through their provisions for something  for the kid to eat .

 

“Momma’s gone.”  the boy said simply. “When the Nazi’s came they shot her.” He  avoided Medic’s face. The German looked at the boy then up at his Captain who just shook his head and  didn’t comment.

 

The boy was still in Yondu’s lap,  hanging on tightly, when the patrol  returned.

 

“Sorry boss...no one else.” Kraglin said sitting down next to him. He accepted the coffee he was offered to warm up. 

 

It was starting to snow again and  wasn’t that just fucking perfect. They couldn’t leave and they didn’t have anyone to call to send someone for the boy. 

 

“Found some boots for the kid and some clothes in one of the houses though.”  Kraglin stated, beginning to pull things out of his bag.

 

Yondu didn’t comment. He couldn’t say anything about the thievery the others would commit  from time to time . Many of them were thieves after all.  And the misfit band of brothers were almost all   avoiding prison. They  had been given the choice to either die in battle or in a concrete cell. Wasn’t a hard choice if you asked him.

 

“You got a name runt?” one of the men asked around a mouth full of an actual rabbit they’d caught and cooked for dinner.

 

“Peter.”

 

“Well Petey seems you’re stuck with us for now.” Yondu said as he took his own cup of coffee.   He gazed at the bitter sludge, and downed half of it.

 

When the kid didn’t reply, Yondu looked down at him. Peter had curled up more in his lap and fallen asleep.

 

“He’s mighty cute.” Kraglin said

 

Yondu didn’t voice his opinion out loud. He drank down more of the coffee, but he had to silently agree.  The little ginger in his lap was indeed cute.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Over the next several days, Yondu found himself with a little shadow.  From the moment he awoke until the end of the day. He moved around the camp, checking on his men and their supplies, Peter always at his side.  Yondu found that he had to be firm with him it was his turn to take his place on patrol and Peter attempted to follow. He left the young boy in Karglin’s care and went off to make sure the area around them was secure.

 

 

 

The corp ignored the small part of them that realized they were indeed getting some happiness out of having the boy with them. He was very excited whenever they returned from their scouting missions and it felt… right. It was nice having someone to feel responsible for and to give them the same warmth that their own families might have felt at the end of a day of work. And that knowledge gave them some lightness to their steps. They knew that _someone_ would miss them if they didn’t return. It was a warmth that carried them despite the blanket of snow that was continuing to thicken below their feet.

 

 

Peter easily slipped between the men of the group, chatting easily with some and bringing out more human sides in others that lay deeply buried. But whenever he was able to, he spent the majority of his time with Karglin or their fearless leader. When either of them was out on patrol and returned, they found themselves nearly attacked by the ginger boy. But Yondu noticed that Peter was most attached to himself. He tried to remain aloof, keeping his own growing fondness for the young boy buried deep.

 

 

 “Yondu?” Peter asked as the scouts re-entered the camp, forcing the leader to turn his attention to his ward. His thoughts had been drifting over their situation.

 

 “Whatcha want, boy?” Yondu answered with his own question. Peter offered out a cup of inky black coffee. Yondu accepted the ration and while it was still muddy and sludge-like the fact that Peter offered it made it more tolerable. He cuffed Peter on the back of the head… well not really cuffed. The others noted to themselves it was more like a ruffle of Peter’s ginger curls than a knock to the head. But they wisely kept that information to themselves.

 

Yondu found that his fingers were numb from the cold and the boy’s head was still sleep warmed. He had only recently awoken from the nap that Kraglin insisted he take when they left for their patrol.

 

“Where’s Krag?” Yondu asked, realizing the absence of his right hand man.

 

“Still napping.” Peter answered simply. “I didn’t want to sleep anymore. Had to make sure you and the others got back. Still can’t make coffee right...” ((he muttered as he watched Yondu drain at least half the cup making a face at the thick liquid.)) Peter muttered his concerns as he watched Yondu drain half of the cup he had brought him. Peter almost giggled at the face that was made as he swallowed the thick brew.

 

Yondu marvelled at how quiet the boy had been when he first stumbled upon the group of misfits. He had only expressed himself through sniffling and crying as he clung to Kraglin. The second in command had a positive effect on the boy, causing him to come out of his shell more and more. And when Yondu needed to find the young boy, he had only turn around or look behind Kraglin. He was never far from either of them.

 

 “He’s just a little boy.” Kraglin whispered to Yondu the first night after Petter found them. Yondu looked down to see nothing but a few tufts of errant curls sticking up from the mountain of blankets that covered Peter. He had made his own space between the commander and his first, snuggling deep into the pile of blankets. Yondu noticed that there were a few more than his own and Kraglin’s and rolled his eyes at the thought that the others had given over their extras for the boy. “Besides, you can’t tell me that you trust anyone else to really know how to handle the boy when he had a nightmare.”

 

Yondu gave up a token protest, trying to argue that Peter wouldn’t have nightmares. The youngster cuddled up closer to Karling and Yondu shut his mouth with a sigh. Yondu hated to admit that his right hand man could indeed be right. And several hours later a smug yet soothing Kraglin shook his head at Yondu when Peter began to cry and scream.

 

 “I’m sure he had been walking for days and not sleeping much.” Koratz said as Yondu left the tent. “What did you expect?” Kraglin’s low murmurs of soothing kindness could be heard over the low wind and Yondu sat down heavily near the fire. He took the offered cup of coffee and sighed.

“A good night’s sleep.” he muttered. He lifted the cup of dark brew to his lips and took a deep drink. He swallowed quickly and made a gagging noise. “God. This shit just keeps getting worse.”

 

 “A good night’s sleep.” Koratz mused. “Can’t remember when any of us had one of those.” He took a drink from his own cup and pulled a face. “The kid will calm down soon enough. He’s a survivor.”

 

Yondu returned to his tent and his bed roll, finding Peter calmer but not sleeping. His round face glistened with tears and he was sniffling silently. Kraglin looked weary and Yondu knew he had the first patrol in the morning. He was tired himself. They all needed some sleep.

 

 “Just lay the boy down between us again.” Yondu yawned. He made himself as comfortable as he could on the cold ground, closing his eyes. Kraglin took a moment to gently place Peter back into the warm nest of blankets. Peter said nothing, allowing the others to take care of him and nestled down under the heap of warmth.

 

 “Go to sleep.” Yondu commanded quietly. Peter shook his head, his eyes full of fear and anxiety. Yondu cursed to himself and rubbed his face in exhaustion and desperation. He began to think of ways that he could help the boy drift back to sleep. Knocking him in the head, while a last resort, was on the list. Yondu might have had his less then stellar moments in life, but he was not one to hurt a child. Children, in his view, could be annoying little shits but he didn’t relish the thought of Kraglin making his life more difficult than it already was if he suggested it out loud.

 

After a few minutes of nothing but gentle noises from outside the tent, Yondu realized he was humming under his breath. Peter’s sniffling grew softer and he turned his chubby face and wide green eyes up at the commander. Yondu tried to place the song that was in his memory and he was sure that Kraglin would berate his choice later. But, if it helped the boy… so be it.

 

“ _Тили-тили-бом_

_Tili Tili Bom_

_Закрой глаза скорее,_

_Swiftly close your eyes_

_Кто-то ходит за окном,_

_Someone is walking outside the house_

_И стучится в двери._

_And knocks upon the door._

_Тили-тили-бом_

_Tili Tili Bom_

_Кричит ночная птица._

_The night birds are singing._

_Он уже пробрался в дом._

_He is already inside the house_

_К тем, кому не спится._

_Of those who can't sleep._

_Он идет..._

_He walks..._

_Он уже..._

_He is coming..._

_близко..._

_Closer..._

_Тили-тили-бом_

_Tili Tili Bom_

_Ты слышишь, кто-то рядом?_

_Do you hear someone nearby?_

_Притаился за углом,_

_Lurking around the corner,_

_И пронзает взглядом._

_Piercing with his gaze._

_Тили-тили-бом_

_Tili Tili Bom_

_Все скроет ночь немая._

_The silent night hides everything_

_За тобой крадется он,_

_He sneaks up behind you,_

_И вот-вот поймает._

_And he is going to get you._

_Он идет..._

_He walks..._

_Он уже..._

_He is coming..._

_близко..._

_Closer..._

_Тили-тили-бом._

_Tili Tili Bom_

_Ты слышишь, кто-то рядом?_

_Do you hear someone nearby?_

_Притаился за углом,_

_Lurking around the corner,_

_И пронзает взглядом._

_Piercing with his gaze.”_

 

Not the most cheerful or hopeful of lullabies, but it was one that had worked  when Yondu was a child. And from the way Peter’s eyes had grown heavy and were now shut, it had worked for him too. Peter’s breathing evened out and he only had a small hiccup now and again from his sobbing earlier.

 

Yondu watched as he tent mate and right hand drifted off to sleep himself. He hated the thought of having to sing it again. It was too painful. Too many memories were attached to the childhood song.

The next morning, as the sun breached their camp, Yondu found that Peter and he had cuddled up against each other in their sleep. Peter slept on as Yondu watched for a moment. He seemed to be exhausted and it was no surprise to anyone. But Peter was beginning to come around. Just the day before he had begun to speak. It was soft and quiet. Kraglin had strained to hear them and understand the words when Peter had tugged on his coat for his attention.

 

Peter spent his first few days at the camp, observing. Yondu pondered how far the boy would get if he tried to leave. And if Peter would still be there in the morning.

 

The weather was continuing to worsen. The snow was falling, getting thicker and heavier each day. Yondu tried to put it out of his mind, but he was worried. The temperature was still dropping rapidly and there was no contact from anyone. He had been half tempted on several occasions to send Kraglin and the boy on, to get them to safety. But he didn’t think they would get far on their own, and doubted that any of the others would fair any better. Mine fields. Enemy soldiers. Wild animals…. They were all potential threats. And it wasn’t a slight at Kraglin’s abilities. It was the fear that Peter wouldn’t run away from danger.

 

Peter still seemed to be wary of Medic. But after watching him and Heavy speak, he seemed a bit less… tense. Heavy was not someone who appeared easily approachable.  Heavy’s past and crimes did indeed result in the death of a man. There was no changing that. Yondu considered that out of the entire unit, Heavy’s misfortune was the least heinous of the corp. He never said it out loud, nor did the others. But they were all in agreement that since there were already in hell, there was no point in further condemning a man for loving another.

 

 “My Shasa… she would like you. You are a curious little rabbit.” Heavy said. Peter had finally worked up the nerve to get closer to the man and stared at his gun. Peter’s tongue loosened with the offer of half of Heavy’s meger sandwich and he had been asking questions. Heavy was sure that Peter had no idea how shocking it was to the others, since Heavy never shared anything with anyone but Medic.

 

A few of the men snorted in stunted laughter at the comment. But very few of them knew the truth. His tone was caused the group to fall quiet and Yondu began to wonder. He wondered if anyone besides himself and Medic… or possibly even Kraglin, knew that Heavy wasn’t referring to his gun. He wondered if the slightly crumpled and dog earred picture was still in the bottom of his bag of if he carried it in a jacket pocket. Tucked away but close at hand so he could touch it and see it when he wanted too.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

Yondo had no delusions that his small group of rag tag misfits was fairly disliked. But he knew, deep down inside, they were all good men. He looked out at the group, sitting around the campfire. They were laughing and joking, trying to make the best of it. They were clouded in grey smoke, the air thick with the scent of tabacco. They were smoking small hand rolled cigarettes, trying to make them last as long as they could.

 

Yondu schooled his face into a vague indifference as he watched his team continue to poke fun at the chubby Peter. He watched as they feed the boy from their packs and stores, trying to be sly and coy about it. But Yondu saw it all. He knows in his heart that the men want to see the boy survive just a bit longer. They smile at his laugh and chuckle at him when he huffs at them indignantly. The kid had been a damn bright spot in their lives. First one in weeks.

 

The men seemed more willing to share their lives with the boy there. They spoke of what their lives had been like before the war. A few of them had nothing more to tell then the tales of their crimes, but Peter listened to each word hungrily. After a week or so of being amongst their group, someone finally had the nerve to ask Peter how he ended up alone, wandering in the woods. They had all agreed that Peter had luck on his side not to have been found by the enemy forces that were near by or not to have wandered into a field of mines.

 

Yondu didn’t honestly care what life was like for Peter before he came into their camp. He didn’t want to know about his life, his village or his family. Yondu thought that the village and it’s people were lucky they had never met Yondu or his team. He chuckled at the thought that no one in that town would have lasted more than a few hours if they had.

 

In very halting speech, Peter managed to tell the band of misfits, that it had just been Peter and his mother. His grandfather had died a few year prior and the village didn’t seem to care about Peter or his mother. So there wasn’t anyone else who cared.

 

 “What about your father? Where was he?” Kraglin asked.

 

 “What is a father?” Peter asked. His reply was innocent and honest, Yondu choked on the spoonful of beans he had been trying to eat. “It’s only even been Mama and I.”

 

And in that simple question, Peter had endeared himself to each member of the corp. More of them than not had been the products of one parent households, some of the rest growing up without any parents. Their families were the over crowded orphanages of the cities. A life of crime was often the easiest options. Honest hard work was too hard to come by or they didn’t have the skills they needed to make an honest living.  Yondu wondered if he could teach the boy a few skills if he wouldn’t be better off than Yondu himself was. Yondu’s face was one of shock after Medic explained what a father was to the small boy.

 

 “That sounds like Yondu.” Peter said simply. A few of the others laughed but they were far away from the commander.

 

“I don’t understand where he would get that damn idea.” Yondu groaned late one evening. Kraglin and he were talking after Peter had fallen asleep on Kraglin. It was a welcome respite, usually finding Yondu the one that Peter clung to as he fell asleep.

 

 “You’ve been looking after him the most, sir.” Kraglin said as he shifted Peter onto the pile of blankets. He chuckled lightly. Yondu rolled to his side to watch as Kraglin settled the boy and hummed him to sleep as he whimpered a bit. Peter seemed to be soothed and drifted further into sleep.

 

 “You’re good with him too.” Yondu offered.

 

“Yes…” Kraglin considered. “But I had siblings, sir. I’m only treating him as I did my own younger brothers. You… you are the one going around treating him like he’s your son. Just accept it.”

 

“I won’t.” Yondu hissed. His hand moved to the crown of Peter’s small head and he ran his fingers through the matted curls. Peter shifted into the movement, looking more soothed with each stroke.

 


	4. The Jacket

 “Petey… get over here.” Yondu barked. The small boy looked up from where he had been sitting, stuffing his face. From the moment the ginger child had stumbled into the encampment he had been eating anything he had been given. The soldiers figured he had been lost and wandering for about three days. Peter told them had been looking for them with a cheeky smile.

 

 “Yes sir?” Peter asked, trying to mimic the tone and words he heard being used by the men. Yondu looked at him and turned around for a moment. Peter watched as Yondu loved faster than his normal speed and he hadn’t registered what had happened when he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. He looked down and found himself enveloped in a large coat. “What’s this, sir?”

 

 “A coat.” Yondu replied, rolling his eyes. “So you don’t get cold, brat.” His tone wasn’t as harsh as his words. Yondu bent down to Peter’s level to help him with the buckles and buttons. The coat swamped the boy’s small frame. But it would help fight the winter chill and it was a spare, too small for anyone in the outfit. Peter admired the unit’s symbols and badges that emblazoned it and his face broke into a grin.

 

 “Thank you!” Peter exclaimed. He wrapped his arms around Yondu’s neck and squeezed before letting go and running off to show Kraglin his new vestment. Yondu rubbed at the back of his neck, the feeling of the small boy’s arms still there. He was amazed at the warm feeling that was not coming from his own coat.

 


	5. Air Raid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissue warning people I'm not telling you twice

Dread. Cold fear. Panic. Three feelings that engulfed each member of the team as the cry of “Air Raid” echoed through their encampment. It had been three weeks since Peter had stumbled upon them and the young boy found himself being kicked into the trench that lined the edge of the woods. Yondu cursed out loud.

 

 “Stay down! Keep Covered! For God’s sake… don’t stand up!” Yondu yelled at the boy. He turned his attention to his corp. “Regroup! Take aim and try to hold our position!”

 

Bullets peppered the ground around the band of men, forcing some of them to dive for cover. A few weren’t so lucky and their dying screams and curses rang out through the winter air. Yondu was used to this side of war. At least as used to it as one could get. But his heart stopped when he saw Peter, out of the trench. The kid hadn’t been the best at listening to instructions or understanding danger since he came to them. But Yondu found that he was futily wishing that just, for once he had.

 

 “Kraglin?!” Peter cried out, moving towards the man on the ground. Yondu didn’t look to see his fallen man. He had known the moment that his screams had reached his own ears.

 

“Peter!” Yondu screamed. “Get Down!”

 

Peter’s instincts took over and he looked up and over towards the voice yelling his name. He began to move towards the commander. Yondu cursed again under his breath and took off at a run towards his charge. HE didn’t make it far when his own scream fell from his lips. His arm exploded in blinding pain that moved towards his chest. He reached up to the space that burned and his hand came away wet. Blood. Lots of blood.

 

Yondu stumbled his last few steps to grab Peter by the back of the neck. With little care for himself or the boy, he threw them both to the ground. Peter clung to Yondu, crying. The noise was drowned out by the rat - a- tat of the gunfire. His apologies fell to the ground with his tears.

Yondu tried to call out to his team. But a sudden dawning realization came over him, that he and Peter were the last alive. He mumbled out a few curses against his government and the universe in general.

 

Yondu took in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from ranting about how his team… men that he had come to find a brotherly companionship with were nothing more than cannon fodder for the army. They were kept short on supplies. Their recidivist status causing them to be nothing more than prisoners really. They were numbers and bodies. Not names and people.

Peter lay in the dirt, still clinging to Yondu. His voice was still moving, words of apology still flooding out.

 

 “Peter!” Yondu barked. “Stay still.” Peter stopped trying to move out from under the man who was keeping him safe. “Quiet. Quit your yammering.” Soon enough, Peter obeyed, an occasional whimper still escaping his trembling lips.

 

Yondu knew that soon enough the air strike would be followed by a ground sweep. They would come to make sure there were no survivors. He knew that with the amount of blood that he was loosing he would be left for dead. And if they found Peter….

 

Yondu coated his hand in his own blood and smeared it across Peter’s face. The boy looked up at him confused and his whimpering died down some. Yondu worked quickly to make sure that Peter looked wounded as well.

 

 

“Petey... “ Yondu whispered quickly, “I need you to be quiet and lay still. Once you hear everything go quiet, when you don’t hear anyone else around… run. Run and never look back.”

 

 “Yondu…” Peter said, his voice soft and course. “I’m scared.” He closed his eyes and tried to lay as still as he can.

 

“I know.” Yondu replied weakly, trying to hide his own fear. His pain was beginning to blossom into something worse, but he tried to focus on the boy. He was the only one left of their small band of brothers. And Yondu knew he had to live. “Boy… you got to make me a promise….”

 

“What is it?” Peter asked.      

 

“Promise me that you will run. Run fast and that you’ll survive. Survive kid…” Yondu said. He knew that it was a fools promise, a wish that might never come true. But he hoped that it would ensure that he didn’t come back. That he’d make it out of the hell they were living in.

 “I...I pppromise…” Peter stuttered out softly. He moved to snuggle against Yondu more. Yondu closed his eyes for a moment, trying to convince himself he wasn’t lying in snow covered mud and muck, dying. He tried to trick himself into thinking that Peter had just woken him up as he had almost every night whinging that he was cold or scared. That Peter was looking for comfort, to be held and cuddled.

 

It had almost worked… he felt for just a moment that he wasn’t in hell. His mind began slipping towards the blackness of unconsciousness and his dreams floated towards a life outside of the war. Yondu raising Peter as his own son… the boy that had stumbled into their camp and into his heart as well.


	6. Escape and return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissue reminder here people

It’s a long time before it’s quiet again. Peter listens for anyone else moving around him. He hates everything in that moment. He hates how Yondu is still covering more than half of his body, not moving. Peter knows what he was told to do, the promise he made. He doesn’t want to leave Yondu and the others, but he had made a promise. Peter snakes his way out from under Yondu and begins to run. He runs until his legs scream and his lungs burn. But he never looks back. And he never forgets.

 

Peter never dreamed that he would make it to the coast. To a small village where he survived. He had fulfilled his promise to Yondu and lived. He watched the years pass, growing into a fine adult man. He falls in love and starts his own small family. But he never forgets the men who found him in the woods and helped him.

 

Peter looked fondly at his wife and a smile plays at his lips as he remembers the first time he met her. It was one of the greatest days of his life. She drop kicked him after he had called her a filthy German. She reminded him she was only half German and her own Papa had been a good Russian soldier, thank you very much. And if he kept at it, she had threatened to introduce him to the business end of her gun.

 

Peter knew that the only day that might compare would be the day he, himself became a Papa. He remembered the tears that fell from his eyes and he considered that no one would fault him for being emotional. And because of his son, and the stories he told him that he decided to return. Finally breaking a promise that a young boy had made years before.

 

The first of May. Victory Day. After searching for a long time and using his own connections from his own time in the army, Peter found the small memorial that had been left behind for the small corp that had saved him. The group of men he could never forget. Men and memories that he kept close to his heart. Men who helped him decide to give his own time of service to his country.

 

Peter never expected the memorial to be grand or spectacular. The men it memorialized were nothing more than convicts and criminals after all, but it still meant something to him. Peter approached the stone marker with a heavy heart and trepidation in his steps. As he came closer he found a man sitting on it’s base. An old man with only one arm. Peter’s eyes narrowed and the man’s face turned up to the approaching family. Peter’s movement stopped and his eyes grew wide.

 

“Yondu?” he breathed out, the name falling from his lips.

 


	7. Alive

Yondu had fought with himself for years. He never wanted to return to the place that haunted his dreams. He knew where the marker was, but he had avoided it for years. He couldn’t force himself to remember the men that gave their lives instead of sitting in a jail cell. And now… on this sunny Victory Day… he sat at the base of the monument, lost in his own thoughts.

Yondu thought back to being found, his own memories foggy with pain and blood loss. But when he finally awoke, weeks later, he found himself in a Military hospital. They informed him that he had lost his arm from the shoulder down. The bullet never hit his chest as he thought, but he mourned the loss of his arm, the loss of his company and the loss of his military career. Months later he was discharged, armless and expected to move on with his life. But something called him back to the site of the massacre this year.

 

Yondu thought that he was honestly too old to be surprised by anything anymore. But on that May day, he was more surprised than he had ever been in life. He heard three sets of footsteps that caused him to look up. A small family was approaching where he sat. For a moment, he saw the young boy he tried to protect on the battle field that day. But as he blinked, a man with the same ginger curls stood before him. He was clad in an old coat, Yondu’s former corp’s chevron stitched to the shoulder. Yondu knew there were no coats left in the world, save the one he was wearing. He knew that the only spare coat that he had in his possesion had gone to someone he cared about. Yondu thought he could hear his heart stop when he hears the man speak.

 

 “Petey?” Yondu breathed out, his voice slipping after years of disuse. He had been quiet for several moments, trying to put everything together in his head.

 

For years, Yondu had hoped that Peter had survived. That he had kept to his promise and ran. But in this moment, he was having a hard time believing what he was seeing. He chalked it up to old age, senility finally setting in with claws. He couldn’t believe that the kid had survived. That he had lived, and grew up. Started his own life. The youngest member of the company had made it.

 

Yondu startles when he realized that Peter had moved closer to where he sat.

 

 “It is you.” Peter said with a trace of fondness in his voice. “I thought… after all these years….. You’re alive.” Yondu smiled. It was indeed the small boy with the red curls that curled up to him at night.

 

 “Takes more than a bullet to kill me, boy.” Yondu said with a throaty chuckle. Peter smiled and shook his head. He wasn’t much of a boy any longer, but Yondu’s voice made him feel young again. “What are you doing here?”

 

 “I came to see the marker, of course.” Peter reliped. “Yondu…. I… I need to tell you something… introduce you to… some people….”

 

 “Who?” Yondu asked. His old body startled at a shout that came from behind Peter. A young voice loud and clear.

 

“Papa!”

 


	8. Family

 “Papa!” The boy was young, full of life and energy. His ginger curls fell against his forehead just as Peter’s had when he was young.

 

 “Hey there my little man.” Peter said as he swung the boy up into his arms and gave him a hug.

 

 “It that the marker?” the boy asked, slightly awed.

 

 “Yes…. that’s it.” Peter answered, looking at the carved stone. His voice was soft and slightly sad. The boy looked at the marker for a moment and his attention turned to the elderly man sitting on it’s base.

 

 “Papa… you said that no one else in the whole world had a coat like yours.” he said, his wide green eyes settling on Yondu again. “You lied to me. That man has one too.”

 

 “No kiddo, what I said was that this coat came from the company of men who saved me. And that no one but them had one.” Peter chuckled.

 

 “Peter do you know… oh… good. You have him.” From behind Peter a woman came close to the father and son. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid and her glasses glinted in the spring sunlight. “Oh, Hello there.” she said to Yondu. She reached out to take the small boy from her husband and into her own arms.

 

 “Mommy… look! That man has a coat just like Papa’s!”

 

 “Shh… sweetie.” Peter’s wife said with a smile. “You don’t have to yell. How do you do? I’m Sasha.”

 

 “Pleasure to met you Sasha.” Yondu said with a toothy grin. “And who might this little solider be? Hmm?”

 

The ginger boy smiled broadly, basking in the attention. “My name’s Yondu! I was named after the man who saved my Papa!”

 

Yondu’s mind whirled for a moment. “Sasha… as in Heavy’s Sasha?” he asked, his voice a bit far away. His eyes instantly focused on the young boy and then on Peter as Yondu the younger spoke. His face was a mask of shock and awe.

 

“You… you knew my Papa?” Sasha asked, bewildered.

 

 “Sash…” Peter said, coming to wrap an arm around his wife’s waist. “This… wow… I can’t believe I’m saying this. Sasha, Yondu… this is Commander Yondu. He was the man in charge of your Papa’s company. This is the man who saved my life.”

 

When Yondu found his voice again, he tried to sound like his usual cocky snarky self. But it fell flat. He was still shocked and a bit honoured. “You… you named your brat after me?”

 “Well… yeah.” Peter said with a cheeky grin and a roll of his eyes. “The only reason I am alive is because of you.” Yondu noticed his smile was the same after all these years. He didn’t know what to say next.

 

“You’re Yondu?” the small boy asked, his eyes wide with wonder. Commander Yondu chuckled and nodded.

 

“That’s my name.” he said, a cheeky grin spreading on his face.

 

“Wow! My Papa talks about you all the time!”

 

“Does he now…” Yondu the older said, glancing up at the boy he once knew. Peter’s face was heating up with the blush of embarrassment.

 

 “Yup!” The young boy answered. “Papa brought us here to see the marker and I could see where you, my other grandpa and his partner are. I wanted to hear more of the stories!”

 

 “We had some graves marked. One for Papa and Archimedes. All the others too. Although, we could remove yours now…” Sasha said with a chuckle.

 

“Might as well just leave it, girl. You never know when I might need it. I’m not getting any younger.”

 

“You are not going anywhere any time soon.” Peter said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. Yondu snorted and shook his head.

 

“I’m going to up and die this second you brat.” he said with a laugh. “Besides,  I still need to find out what the hell you are doing back here. How you found Sahsa and convinced her to marry you!”

 

 “We were both in the military. I… I made the mistake of calling her….” Peter shut his mouth with a snap and looked at his son before turning his attention to Yondu again. “Well… the same thing I had called Medic… I mean Archimedes.”

 

“Boy…” Yondu laughed. “You have a death wish if she is anything like her father.”

 

“Don’t worry sir,” Sasha said with a smile. “I drop kicked him and introduced him to my version of Papa’s Sasha. Except I call him Ivan after Papa.”

 

“Tough girl.” Yondu said, taking a moment to get up from where he had been sitting. “Alright boy. You can buy me dinner and we will talk. I have a feeling this is going to take a while.”

 

“Sure.” Peter said with a smile. He looked towards his wife and son. Sasha nodded in agreement and Yondu the younger had fallen quiet as he had begun to doze in his mother’s arms.

 

“Oh.. and boy?” Yondu said as he started walking towards the town. “You are going to explain what your brat meant when he said his other grandpa.”

 

Peter’s face reddened again. His wife and Commander Yondu began to chuckle at his embarrassment, but Peter couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

 


End file.
